


Gifting Fire: A Frankenstein Reenvisioning

by AcademiaNut



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 09:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18892108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcademiaNut/pseuds/AcademiaNut
Summary: What if Victor Frankenstein didn't abandon his creation as soon as he awoke? What if he tried to care for the new-born mind and spirit, albeit as haltingly and mistake-ridden as an unready father? What if Elizabeth was central, refusing to stay behind the scenes? What if other characters, however sidelined or small, found out about the Creature and stepped up to try to help both the Creature and his struggling, flawed father. What if Mary Shelley's wonderful characters were allowed other paths than the tragic ones set for them in the original? Maybe this might occur...





	1. Waking

Waking

 

It was done. Victor did not look at it, yet - he could not have said why. Instead, his eyes surveyed the room, glancing off the form on the table. In the dimness, illuminated only by the wax puddles that had once been candles, he saw only glimpses, impressions, continually changing like a lightning-lit stormscape. A tray of instruments, their red tincture in the dark. A cast-off cloak across the floorboards, carelessly swept toward the dirt that lingered in a corner. The single curtain on the high casement, flickering in the draft that seized through the cracked window. 

The draft- that cold, more than anything else, returned Victor's perception to the table, and what the dim light spoke of there. The candle stubs, their glow fleeting, illuminating a hand, a limb, a mass of tangled black hair. He should have felt triumph. But somehow the elements of the human form, so complex and beautiful when he had joined them, the veins and bones a puzzle that had never been macabre, seemed here too strange, unwelcome, an intrusion into the seclusion of study. Had he - could he - have made this?

His gaze drew upward, unwilling, to the face. Mottled skin, cracked black lips, translucent grey lids- and then. His breath caught in his throat. Eyes. The creation - he wondered absently why he did not think of it as his - had opened his eyes. Dun-dark, glimmering with small points of yellow light, pupils large in the dimness. All aspects he had crafted, made. But this was new - this animation, pleading, penetrating, the air of something like supplication with which the creature stretched out one hand. Victor stood, frozen but with thoughts electric, racing. What was next? He should do something, no? Acknowledge it? Name himself its benefactor? Perhaps - greet the creature?

But then the sounds began.  
In the graveyards, Victor's thoughts had never been disturbed by any of the aural visions trespassers were said to hear. No haunt's howl, no ghoul's cry - such things were superstition. He'd barely registered even the scrape of his own shovel, the dry dislodgment of a bone. Nothing would distract him from his purpose. But here, the noises that issued from this creature's lips - the human larynx was not formed for these. Victor staggered back unknowing, shielding his ears. 

"No," he heard himself muttering. "No, I can't."

And he was running, swinging the door back behind him to shut out the sounds, plunging down the few curved steps, scattering his gaze to ensure none of the few rural inhabitants were out, his feet stepping backwards til his shoulders found purchase against the stones of the hovel's wall, sliding down as his legs bent under him and found the icy muck below. His breathing came in shallow gasps, eyes staring unseeing at his own hands before him. He did not know how much time passed, until in the building above, a groan issued, only softer than the unearthly cries before. 

Victor started, looked up, breathed one long breath into frozen hands. 

"What have I done?"


	2. Slumber

Slumber

Victor opened his eyes with difficulty, the lids pressed shut with a rime of frost. He saw rather than felt the cold at first, tiny icicles clinging to his coat-buttons - then the sharp gusts, knifing past the neck where his forgotten scarf should be. He needed to get inside, but still he listened, ears piqued to hear any of the eldritch sounds he had before. But it was silent - and the hope that it had somehow vanished led him towards the building, back inside. 

Ascending the steps, he faltered at the door - even as his body warmed at the thought of shelter, his mind quailed at what he might find inside. Might? He shook his head. Why did he persist in thinking of his creation as some fantastical apparition, some daemon that might manifest and vanish at will. His own hands had crafted it, his own mind molded it. He should feel no fear. Why did he? The voice of his father, almost forgotten in the months of single-minded pursuit, cut through his thoughts unwillingly.

\---My dear Victor, do not waste your time upon such, it is sad trash.----

It was not quite fear that gripped him as he grasped the door-handle, not the panic that had seized him earlier as he felt the rough give of the wood frame as he turned it, pushed through. He forced his eyes upon his creature, which thankfully was not making any of the earlier-detested sounds. It was no longer in the recumbent, almost languid pose in which he had left it, but now was curled, knees drawn tight into its chest, on the ground, the back resting against a limb of the table. The face was tilted up, towards him, yellow-flecked eyes waiting, expectant. Shivers shook its frame. Victor only now realized he had left it without clothing save the cloth about its waist. He could not have the creature falling ill. Glancing through the room, Victor's eyes fell upon the discarded traveling cloak, and he snatched it up, advancing toward the creature with caution. But the creature made no movement of aggression, only let Victor approach, all the while staring at him with that unguarded gaze. The lips made no sound whatsoever as Victor hastily draped the cloak around the creature's shoulders, but opened, slightly, in what could be conceived as an expression of relief.

Victor's shoulders fell as he quickly took several steps back from the form, a breath he had not known he was holding escaping his own mouth. He watched, almost spellbound, as the creature moved its hands to draw the cloak closer about its body. At first, the attempts were fumbling, and part of Victor worried briefly that he had erred in the construction, that fine motor movements would not be possible. But then again - an image came to his mind. Victor had seen his little brother, William, undergo similar frustration in attempting to wriggle a chubby arm into the sleeve of his daydress, fist flailing as he railed in miniature ferocity against his mother's attempts to guide his arm into the sleeve. No, not his mother - this would have been too late for that. It had been Elizabeth. Elizabeth who had had to be a mother to their little brother. How had he forgotten? He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, but he did not recall the reason his brother had come to mind, nor why his thoughts had flitted to family at such a strange moment. 

His eyes back on the creature, he watched it manage, through a combination of shrugging its massive shoulders and testing the movements of its arms, to overcome its clumsy fingers and find its way deeper into the cloak. Finally, ensconced in as much fabric as possible - the large traveling cloak was still hardly enough to cover its shoulders - the creature opened his mouth wide and - silently - yawned. 

Victor's throat felt strange. He had been awake for days now. He hadn't felt it, so consumed he had been in his endeavors, but now, despite his fear, despite everything, in the same room with all that had gone wrong -something like drowsiness pricked at him. He fought it, but the need for air rose up in his throat, pressed at his chest. He opened his own mouth, felt the muscles of his jaw move and his eyes narrow into closed slits as his mouth opened as wide as the creature's. 

The urge to laugh passed through him, a sharp sting of hysteria, and he reopened his eyes to see the creature staring at him once more, this time without gesture or sound. Now it merely looked - the eyes flickering curiosity, pupils darting from Victor's eyes to his mouth to the scientist's shivering form, and back again. 

Victor waited, but the creature made no motion toward him. Safe for now. Despite the frenzy of Victor's disparate thoughts, the part of him that screamed to run, fool, he had made his own assassin, and the part that fought to stay, to see where his endeavors had taken him, the heaviness of his limbs overcame both, and his eyes closed as his knees found the floor and his head leaned against the wall.

They slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yawns are a sign of empathy, right? :) it's a start!  
> About the Creature's silence at first - I'm not making a James Whale-esque Creature who can only grunt and mutter. (no offense to James Whale, love his portrayal, it's just not Shelley's). But in the novel, sound is a deeply important aspect of the Creature, and I don't want to understate its importance by having him acquire it too fast. While at first in Shelley's classic, his own sounds frighten him, he quickly gains deep eloquence, by which he is able to move the blind DeLacey and the reader. Here, Victor has had a particularly unfortunate reaction to hearing the Creature's infant sounds - so that of course will affect the Creature's attempts at them in the future, and he might be a bit more slow to acquire his characteristic eloquence - but he will definitely get there.


	3. Chapter 3: Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Creature wanders outside and makes a discovery - Victor might make a few, too.

Victor woke as if jolted from the dead, unaware of time. Was it night outside those windows? The grey panes, filmed with residue, would not tell. He catalogued his sensations, the workings of his body. The breath - sharp, taking in gusts of chill air. The heart - a strong beat, too fast, but that could easily have been the rough waking. The eyes - open, sight clear. The eyes – no, the creature's eyes, looking at him, too curious, too questioning, too -

The creature was gone.

Victor scrambled to his feet, thoughts racing, tumbling over each other as they had been ever since the creature's sudden awakening and his own unexpected mixture of fear and paralysis.  
Foolish was the understatement of his life - could he have thought he would have been proud of his work? Bringing the dead to life - it would have been admirable. He had thought his creature would be as a compound, making the unstable stable, a fusion of disparate elements that would settle, calmly, together, proudly defying death with each simple move. But what he had made, what had made those sounds- he had only compounded the problem.

Think. He must think, he scolded himself- Victor, what good is your aptitude if you cannot address an immediate crisis? It had to be somewhere in the forest, the creature. The high cabin where he'd set up his workshop was remote, purposely isolated. He could not have gone far. Victor looked around the room wildly, searching for a cloak before he ventured out - but of course, the creature had been wearing it, how could he not remember that? Resigning himself to the cold in his urgency, he clambered down the steps, the dawn-light piercing his eyes and rendering him blinded for a moment, before his surroundings settled into focus around him. 

Green, the coniferous trees, bright and striking even in this icy weather, a clear day - he could even make out one of the rural ground-tillers, far in the distance. People. No, of all things, his creature could not encounter people. Not yet. Everything would be - Victor didn't want to think of how everything would be, so he started running, into the dense forest rather than the scraggled fields, his breath short. Though he'd spent countless days exerting his mind in pursuit of creation, many without sleep, his body's strength had been sorely neglected, and he found himself huffing as he sprinted, finally stopping, hands on his knees, drawing in deep gulps of air. 

A cry caught his ears before he caught his breath, and Victor's eyes widened to panic. Forcing his legs in the direction of the sound, he managed to run towards it - and just over the hillside, the rocks and thickly-branched trees giving way to a clearing, he found the creature. Far from a noise of distress, nor the unearthly sounds Victor had heard earlier, the creature made the same cry again, staring into the sky, mouth open, eyes bright, reaching up towards the trees and a beam of sun. He was barefoot, but seemed not to feel the chill, gaze focused upwards. The creature's voice was still eerily haunting and rough, but had a note of delight - which quickly faded as he felt Victor's steps and turned around, expression fading like a scolded child, hand making its way to his mouth, palm covering the opening. Though silent now, the creature still pointed upwards, urging Victor with his eyes to look at the discovery. Flooded with relief at finding it, Victor could not help but turn his eyes towards the creature's reach. Just a single hint of non-gray-or-green color amidst the pines- a flush of red feathers, a stone-sharp beak, full belly pushed outwards with song. The creature was captivated, eyes locked on the sight. 

Victor, worry vanished now that they were both freely outside the possible view of anyone, and intrigued at his creature's response, started to mentally catalogue his observations. The creature's voice had been altered with potential emotional response. It demonstrated visual acuity in spotting the tiny bird, even an appearance of excitement- but then there was that look that could only be described as ashamed, the creature putting his hand to its mouth in silence.   
This was a more complex reaction than simple physical cold, surprise, or even happiness at discovery of the bird – clearly the creature’s mental faculties were working. What could be going through its mind? 

Victor's thoughts raced, but were cut short by the bird trilling again - and the creature's eyes widening, it now walking towards Victor, now tugging on his arm, pointing, stretching his long, awkward limbs upwards. It was as if the creature wanted Victor to take him to the bird, reach it down from the tree - or fly towards it? Victor shook his head from such fanciful thoughts, but took the creature's shoulders in his hands - the creature startling at the intentional touch - Victor forcing himself to look into its eyes. 

"You don't understand me yet," Victor started - but even so, with the creature's expression shifting from excitement to something like fear, even shame in his presence, he wondered…  
"Do you… like the bird?" Victor fumbled in a softer voice, pointing back toward it. He wrenched a stiff smile onto his features, hoping to appear friendlier, assuage the creature, as one might address a shy hound.

The creature just looked at him, but its eyes brightened from fear to their earlier wonder. It pointed to the bird again, the grass, the trees around them, the sun - a beam sending a faint glow of light towards the ground, dust motes dancing in its stream. It sat down, so suddenly it almost dragged Victor with him, and passed a hand through the grass, touching each blade, guiding Victor's hand to the grass as well to feel it too. It – it smiled, an expression Victor did not at first recognize, as rough as the movement was, but the corners of its mouth were certainly pulled up, and its eyes bright with wonder.

"Fascinating," Victor mused, as he allowed himself to be guided by the creature, who then pressed both their hands against the frost-hardened earth between, as the cold shot through his fingers, as the creature then let go his grip to tighten his cloak - but then, with a look, the creature did something Victor had never expected. 

It pointed to Victor, and tilted its head, removing its cloak and wrapping it around Victor's shoulders, mirroring Victor's own actions of the previous night. Though Victor was shivering violently, his thin shirt little protection against the elements, for a moment, he could not move. The creature was mirroring. Echoing his actions - maybe its earlier sound was trying to mimic the bird. Imitation. Magnificent. He almost forgot the cloak until it began to slip from his shoulders, and the creature made a choking sound of surprise. Again, it put its hand over its mouth, eyes lowering. Victor pulled the cloak back over his shoulders, fastening it with the clasp, his own fingers fumbling. He wondered why. 

"You must go back with me," he said, with finality, trying to assert some authority in the realm he was least comfortable – uncertainty. Would the creature even follow him? His worry was confirmed when the creature sat back down, closed its eyes. The expression on his features was almost peaceful, and quiet as it was, the yellow eyes hidden by shadowed lids, it seemed somehow less menacing. But still not willing to be guided, as Victor saw when he pulled on its arm, attempting in futile effort to budge his form. He tried pushing his back, exhorting him, warming him sternly of the dangers outside. But there was no response – the creature seemed content to sit in the spot of sun, the sounds of nature circling around them, the susurration of the firs’ needles seeming to Victor like ominous whispers, the sounds of people who might find his creation. Something stirred among the underbrush – a faraway foot?

“Please,” Victor asked, fear rising in his tone. “Please, we must go!” Had he resorted to begging his own creation? Ridiculous – but the truth was clear, they could not be found. Not now, when the creation had just awoken. Glancing wildly about him, he tried to find something the creature might be interested by, something that would coax him away. Berries – no, that variety was poisonous, he knew. But could they drug the creature? But then, how to pull a being easily three times his weight back to the cabin? He abandoned the idea. Finally, something came to him, a strange impulse. He reached towards the creature, up towards its face – close, painfully close – fear stopping his breath – and touched its closed eyelids. They snapped open. The creature blinked. Victor could not tell what stirred in its features, but he reached forward towards Victor – but as being poked in the eyes by his creation slightly outranked being found in his current state of worry, Victor straightened himself immediately. “We have to… will you… shall we go?” The creature stared at him with a look Victor could not comprehend, but then it rose. Victor let out his breath in a rush of relief. “Please, follow.” And when he took the creature’s hand, it walked – following by his side, slightly behind, his head still tilted upwards to look at the sights around them – but moving. At last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Creature gets to see nature for the first time! That was one of my favorite parts in Shelley’s original work, just his sheer wonder upon encountering it – and it makes sense he would not want to leave. Unlike Shelley’s creature, this one has no concept of danger from the outside world yet, as he hasn’t encountered it. But there’s still the emotional pain from Victor’s dramatically-repulsed reactions to half the natural things the creature does – but fascination is gradually supplanting that, so it *should* get better soon. Can’t wait to stop using that “it” pronoun. 😊 Thank you for reading and kudos! They mean everything, even though I am very bad at posting – I tend to write lots of scenes in the middle of the story, and not as much in chronological order – but this one, at least, made it.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh dear. This does not look to be turning out much differently than the original scenario - but don't worry, it will! My Victor is pretty based on original Victor, with at least half his flaws, and though he is going to overcome them and be a dad or sorts, he's not there yet. But next chapter will have some happy at least :)


End file.
